


The Last Asheth

by Laurea



Category: Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-17
Updated: 2010-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurea/pseuds/Laurea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected summons from Mother Proudfoot brings Millie and Christopher back to Series Ten, in an investigation of the welfare of the latest Living Asheth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Asheth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raven (singlecrow)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/singlecrow/gifts).



Millie had never expected to return to Series Ten after she left to follow Christopher to a new world. Outside of the temple grounds, Series Ten had never felt like home to her. Living all her life intended as a human sacrifice, she had had nothing binding her to that world the way that other people were bound to their home series. After a lifetime of making her home in Series Twelve, with two teenage children and two more wards, she’d never even considered a return.

At least, not until a message from Mother Proudfoot materialized in Chrestomanci's morning mail. After a plea that Millie and her husband come to hear something of great importance, there was nothing for it but a trip to see what her old guardian wanted.

And thus, Millie found herself walking with Christopher along streets she'd never expected to see again. The smoke, the noise, the wet heat that boiled you alive in shade or sun -- it was all too familiar and still too strange. She'd grown up here, yes, but she'd never lived on these wild, crowded streets.

Christopher, with his frequent childhood visits, knew the city better than she did, and so Millie let her husband lead the way. The temple district had grown since Millie had left, smaller shrines expanding into large, painted temples to other gods. Still, even though it was no longer the most obvious, Millie thought she would know Asheth’s temple anywhere.

Inside, a young novice led them to a grand gold-appointed receiving room, part of the personal quarters of the head of the temple. There, Mother Proudfoot sat enthroned, warm blankets tucked around her.

"Are you well, Mother Proudfoot?" Millie asked, sitting next to the big easy chair. The woman looked old -- no surprise, all these years later -- and frail enough to crinkle with a touch. "Can I get you anything?"

Mother Proudfoot smiled. "I'm not so decrepit as that just yet. Besides, the priestesses do almost anything for me that I really need."

"'Almost' anything," Christopher said. "That seems to be the key, doesn't it?"

“Yes, that’s right,” Millie said, putting a hand on the old priestess’s arm. “You said it was important, so I didn’t want to wait.”

"Don't look so grim, child," Mother Proudfoot said, her voice as tart as when she'd caught Millie sneaking away from dull lessons on the temple's faith. "I haven't called you to a deathbed, you know."

A weight Millie hadn't even let herself acknowledge lifted from her heart. "Oh -- then you're --"

"My health is as well as anyone can expect, at my age," Mother Proudfoot said. "I didn't mean to alarm you, but I'm afraid I needed assistance that is bit beyond the capabilities of the temple sisters."

"Assistance of the more professional sort, then?" Christopher asked, raising his eyebrows. "My dear madam, you must be aware I could have been here much quicker had you called me in a more official capacity."

"Yes, and then what would I have done when you came hurtling through worlds without your wife?" Mother Proudfoot said, shaking her head at Christopher. Millie hid a smile. "It's as I said in my letter -- I wanted you both."

“Well, I for one am delighted to see you again,” Millie said. “Anything that you need, I’ll be glad to help.”

“I know that, my child,” Mother Proudfoot said. “But I wish I hadn’t had to ask it of you.” She gave a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately, there's no one here I dare trust with this." Mother Proudfoot looked from Millie to Christopher, the age lines in her face deeper than ever. "I fear for the safety of our current living Asheth."

Christopher raised his eyebrows. "Surely no one would dare risk the goddess's wrath by harming her. I always understood Asheth to be quite definite in her disapproval of such things."

"For obvious, physical harm, certainly," Mother Proudfoot said. "But as Millie knows, it is possible to distract her attention and get around her notice, if one is crafty enough."

“You think someone would try?” Millie asked. “If you’ve called us, you must have a suspect in mind.”

Mother Proudfoot shook her head. "No one specific, not within the temple" she admitted. “However, there is a heretical group that has risen in the city, the Children of Ashes. I hesitate to call them a true rival religion, as they don’t seem to have the backing of the goddess in any divine power or miracles. Their supposed priestess even refuses to show herself. Still, they have been quite vehement in claiming to have the true interpretation of the worship of Asheth."

"And you think they might try to destroy your living Asheth?" Millie asked, frowning. "Surely the Arm of Asheth could defend her better than we could."

"If I could be sure of their loyalty, perhaps," Mother Proudfoot said.

"You're sure you have a traitor, then?" Christopher asked. "What makes you think so? If they're interested in political power, why suspect they'd go after your goddess?"

"Because I think they've already done it," Mother Proudfoot said. "The Children of Ashes began making their presence known perhaps six months ago, and at first I paid them no more attention than I would any similar group. But then, a few weeks ago, I began to notice a change in the Living One's behavior. She became dull, constantly tired, where she never had been before. She used to be a clever thing, quite lively, until this began.”

“That does sound suspicious,” Millie said. “What do the other priestesses think?”

“Them!” Mother Proudfoot rolled her eyes. “They think it’s nothing more than childish whims.” She shook her head. “Well, they did look at her,” she admitted. “The ones with magic abilities all checked, and they found nothing.”

“You’re sure she’s not just tired of being in the temple?” Christopher asked. “If she’s smart, as you say, then she might just be frustrated with having no outlet.”

Mother Proudfoot frowned at him. “We did learn after Millie, you know. This goddess has had a wide variety of books to keep her amused, but she hasn’t touched them in weeks. I assure you, sir, that I have considerable experience managing young girls, and I can in fact tell the difference between a childish snit and a serious problem.”

“What is it you want from us, then?” Millie asked.

“Talk to the girl,” Mother Proudfoot said. “Tell me if you see what I have seen, or if the other priestesses are right. If you believe I am right, we can discuss how to proceed. But if you agree with the other priestesses --” Mother Proudfoot looked into the fire. “If you do, then perhaps I am too suspicious and too old, after all.”

Millie and Christopher shared a quick glance, making sure they were in accord on this. “Of course we will, Mother Proudfoot,” Millie said, reaching out to take the old woman’s hand.

“Then young Sister Cadence will take you,” Mother Proudfoot said, signalling to the novice who had gone to wait at the other side of the large room.

“What, now?” Millie asked, surprised.

Christopher nodded. “That’s probably best, to catch her by surprise.” He frowned, staring off into the distance. “If anything is draining her, it will come into effect when her interest sparks.”

“So the trick will be to draw her interest,” Millie finished, seeing the shape of his idea. “We should be able to manage that, between us.” She smiled at Mother Proudfoot. “This shouldn’t take long.”

***

The garden looked much more beautiful, now that Millie knew she could leave if she chose. But she rather suspected the young girl sitting among the cats wouldn’t agree. Only a little younger than Millie herself when she met Christopher, the young Goddess was thinner than Millie had ever been, the kind of thinness that came from something more serious than natural slenderness.

The Goddess looked up when Sister Cadence led Millie and Christopher came through the door, her head raising from where she’d had it propped in her hands. “They’re not supposed to be here,” the Goddess said, though there was nothing condemnatory in her tone. “I thought only priestesses were allowed back here.”

“Normally, yes,” Sister Cadence agreed. “But Mother Proudfoot has sent her friends to speak with you. She hopes you will answer their questions.”

“You may go tell her you’ve safely delivered us,” Christopher said, in his grandest tones. The novice, who had obviously been intending to stay, found herself leaving in spite of herself.

The Goddess didn’t look too impressed with Christopher. “I’m too tired for more questions,” she said, her head dropping back onto her hands.

“Does resting make you tired, then?” Christopher asked, raising his eyebrows. “I understand you’ve been doing very little else these days.”

The Goddess screwed up her face at this, eyeing Christopher like a puzzle. “Are you two doctors? I heard some of the priestesses say they wanted me to see doctors.” She took in their finely-made outfits, more appropriate to the chilly Series Twelve climate than the heat of Series Ten. “You don’t look like doctors.”

“We aren’t,” Millie said, before Christopher could confuse the girl further. “But we do want to help you, my dear.”

This didn’t seem to be the right tactic, either, since the Goddess’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not your dear. I don’t know you.”

“She knows you like she knows herself,” Christopher said.

Millie shot her husband an annoyed glance for his ill-timed jokes. “I’m Millie Chant, and this is my husband, Christopher,” she said. “May I sit with you?”

The Goddess shrugged, and so Millie sat on the bench beside her. At once, the cats converged, circling around Millie and crying for the attention of the former Goddess.

The Goddess stared. “But they’ve never done that for anyone but me,” she protested. “They’re Asheth’s cats, really.” Her eyes grew very wide. “You -- you aren’t Asheth in disguise, are you?”

“Not exactly,” Millie said, an idea occurring to her. She glanced at Christopher -- should she? A slight quirk of his lips -- if she thought it would be best. Millie decided to do it.

“I used to be like you,” she told the girl.

“Like me?” It only took the Goddess a moment to understand. “You mean -- you were the Living Asheth?” She frowned. “But -- you can’t be anymore, because now I’m the Living Asheth. Did you quit?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Millie said. “Adult women can’t be the Living Asheth, in any case. I’m Millie now. I chose the name after I left the temple.”

The young Goddess showed more interest in this than in anything else they’d said. “You got to pick a name?” With the light of excitement brightening the Goddess’s eyes, a twinge -- just a twinge -- of power flickered at the edge of Millie’s witch sight.

“That’s right,” Millie said, and the power flickered around the girl again when she smiled.

“Do you think I’ll get to have one?” the Goddess asked, her eyes very wide.

“I’m sure you will,” Millie said, mainly to keep the Goddess’s attention centered on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christopher begin an analysis spell to try to find more information on the power surrounding the Goddess. “Every girl has her own name, outside of the temple.”

“Did it take you a long time to pick one?” the Goddess wanted to know. “There are so many!”

If Millie had dared draw attention to Christopher while he analyzed the Goddess, she would have made a face at him for the smirk that crossed his face there. “I read the name in a book,” she said.

“That’s a good idea!” the Goddess said, smiling as though she were an ordinary, cheerful little girl. “I’m going to start looking for names, too. That way I’ll be ready if I need to pick one!”

“I think that’s an excellent plan,” Christopher said, releasing his spell. “Perhaps you can tell us about your decision another day.” He swept towards the door.

The Goddess frowned. “But I thought you wanted to ask me questions. That’s what you said.”

“We were just getting to know you today,” Millie said, standing and brushing cat fur off her dress. She did hope Christopher hadn’t seen anything too dreadful, to make him bolt like that. “We’ll come back and try again another day, my love.” With a last smile for the Goddess, she hurried after her husband.

Christopher didn’t say a word until they were fully out of sight of the temple, nearly an entire block away. Then he stopped, staring up at the sky like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Millie wasn’t fooled. “You saw something, then?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m not surprised the priestesses missed it. The drain is there, but it’s one of the most subtle I’ve ever seen.”

“We knew it would have to be, if it was there at all,” Millie said.

“Yes, but this goes beyond what I expected,” Christopher said, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “That spell goes very deep into that girl. I don’t believe I could have done it myself without considerable time in her presence.”

Millie frowned. “Then that’s why you wouldn’t talk in the temple? You suspect the priestesses, like Mother Proudfoot does?”

“That would be the obvious answer,” Christopher said. “But with a spell so subtle as that, I believe I find myself distrusting the obvious.” He turned his gaze to Millie. “I think that perhaps we should see what we can learn about this political group Mother Proudfoot mentioned.”

***

The Children of Ashes were easy enough to find. Millie stopped the first friendly-looking lady she saw in the street.

“Excuse me, but could you tell me where I might find the Children of Ashes?” she asked, offering a disarming smile.

The lady didn’t smile back, but she did answer. “Just west of the temple district.” Her eyes darted from Millie to Christopher. “Going to the spectacle today, are you?”

“Yes, of course,” Christopher said, his face perfectly bland.

The lady shook her head. “Everyone wants to see that Mother Astera make her appearance,” she said.

“We’re quite anxious,” Christopher said. “Do you think we’ll make it there in time?”

“If you don’t hang about gabbing with me all day,” the lady said, making a shooing motion at them.

“What do you think the spectacle will be?” Millie wondered as they hurried. “Mother Proudfoot didn’t mention it.”

“We shall have to remain in suspense for the moment,” Christopher said.

Their suspense didn’t last long, though. The show seemed to have started before they arrived, and they found themselves at the outskirts of a large crowd in the courtyard of an elaborate house. Between two large fires, a woman paced in flowing golden robes, waving her arms as she spoke.

“ -- too long has our fair city been polluted with false worship!” she thundered, in the midst of a speech. “And now, where is our Goddess? Does she answer the prayers of the people -- or has she turned away her gaze at the sight of our blasphemy?”

“I’m not surprised Mother Proudfoot objected to this,” Millie whispered to Christopher.

“But there is a way to the Goddess, for those who know the truth!” the woman -- she had to be Mother Astera -- went on. “For those who renounce the false worship and strive to bring the true will of Asheth to her people, prayers can be answered!”

“And now we come to it, I believe,” Christopher murmured.

And sure enough, Mother Astera flung her hands into the air, the fires roaring up at her sides. “If you would rid yourself of the barriers of the temple, step forth!” she shouted. “Come and be purified in the fires of Asheth’s will!”

This seemed to be what the crowds had come to see. Eagerness gleamed on the watching faces, but the real action happened up at the front. A row of burly, sword-bearing priests parted to let a woman stumble forth on a crumpled leg. Millie winced when the woman -- no more than a girl, really, now that she got a better look -- collapsed to her knees before Mother Astera.

“What plea would you bring to Asheth’s ear?” Mother Astera asked, her voice turning gentle.

“I -- my leg,” the girl said, her face flooding red. “It broke, and -- my family couldn’t pay a doctor, and it healed wrong.”

“A tragedy, for one so young,” Mother Astera said. “Surely the Goddess would take pity on such a plight. Have you not asked for her aid?”

“I did,” the girl said. “I asked at the temple, and I made an offering on the festival day, but --” Her voice broke. “But the priestesses said Asheth doesn’t grant miracles very often. They said she must have a different plan for me.”

“Of course they did,” Mother Astera said, her deep sympathy written all over her face. “But I’m sure that after a few more offerings -- no more than a year’s worth I’m certain -- then they might be persuaded to petition the Goddess on your behalf.”

The crowd gave off a chorus of boos, masking Millie’s outraged gasp. “They would never!”

Christopher took her elbow in warning. “Whether they would or not isn’t the issue,” he said under the cover of the noise. “What matters is whether the people here believe they would -- and why.”

Millie nodded, bracing herself not to react as she turned her attention back to the spectacle.

“ -- renounce the false doctrines of the temples and pledge yourself to Asheth’s true incarnation?” Mother Astera asked.

“I -- I do,” the girl answered, terror and hope warring on her face.

“Then embrace the true power of the Goddess!” Mother Astera cried. “Come and surrender yourself to her!”

And at the wave of Mother Astera’s hand, the girl took one last step _into the fire._

This time, Millie’s gasp joined in with the rest of the audience. Christopher’s fingers dug into her arm enough to bruise, and she couldn’t care. She could sense no magic working on the girl, nothing protecting her from the flames.

And yet, before Millie could take another breath, the girl stepped through the fire, unharmed. Relief hit Millie so hard that the girl hadn’t been incinerated that it took her a moment to realize that the girl now stood straight, her leg untangled and strong.

“I suspect we’ve found where the drained power is going,” Christopher said, amid the crowd’s cheering.

Millie turned away in disgust as others rushed forward, eager to declare themselves before Mother Astera. “Mother Proudfoot was right,” she said, walking back towards the temple district. “That -- that _woman_ has been draining the strength of a child!”

“It wasn’t magical strength, though,” Christopher said. “Not unless you sensed something that I didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of strength,” Millie said. “It’s horrible, and wicked, and we have to stop her!”

“Naturally we do,” Christopher said. “I thought that went without saying.” He waited for Millie’s reluctant smile before continuing. “Now, the glory of Asheth aside, I did notice she didn’t mention why she wants to perform these great and wondrous miracles.”

Millie nodded, considering it. “It can’t be money, not if she’s saying such awful things about the temple extorting people,” she said.

“And as reaffirming as the support of the public might be for her, it won’t do her much good in the theocracy here,” Christopher said.

“No, she’d need the support of the temples to other gods and goddesses,” Millie agreed. “And they’ll never support someone who started out as a heretic. It would set too bad a precedent.”

“The mystery continues, then,” Christopher said, frowning. “I think perhaps we’d better consult your Mother Proudfoot again.”

***

Mother Proudfoot was not pleased to be proven right about her Goddess. “You must get that spell off of her at once,” she ordered, prepared to storm off to see the Goddess that moment.

Christopher’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you certain you don’t wish to prepare further? Removing the spell will warn this Mother Averil that we’ve spotted her plan.”

“Mother Astera, love,” Millie corrected.

That stopped Mother Proudfoot before she reached the door. “Astera?” She blinked. “That -- that is a name I have not heard in a very long time.”

Millie and Christopher exchanged glances. “You didn’t know the name of the woman leading the group?” Millie asked.

“I’ve only heard of their political leaders,” Mother Proudfoot said. “Never their false priestess.” Her eyes watched something very far away. “Astera -- it can’t be a coincidence.”

“Should we conclude that you do in fact know the cult leader?” Christopher asked, when Mother Proudfoot didn’t elaborate.

“No,” Mother Proudfoot said, jolted back to the present. “The Astera I knew died long, long ago. She was the last of the daughters of Asheth to be sacrificed before my predecessor began saving the girls.”

“That does make her rather unlikely to be the same person,” Christopher agreed.

“Were you close?” Millie asked, seeing the regret on Mother Proudfoot’s face.

“I care for all the Living Ones,” Mother Proudfoot said. “But -- no, I would not say I preferred her to others. One should not speak ill of the dead, but I will say that Astera was never as kind a girl as you were, my dear. I remember her only because she was the last of the sacrifices.”

“Then you think this Mother Astera took her name deliberately?” Millie asked.

“I don’t see how she could have,” Mother Proudfoot said. “The child herself didn’t know her own name until just before the end. Girls given to Asheth surrender that part of their identity while they are the Goddess.”

“But surely the temple doesn’t depend on your memory alone for its past,” Christopher said.

“We’ve records, of course,” Mother Proudfoot said, frowning at him. “But only a few of the highest priestesses may access information on the former Goddesses.”

“And only someone inside the temple would have been able to cast the draining spell on your Goddess,” Millie said.

Mother Proudfoot gave her head a sharp shake. “We’ve delayed too long. We must help the Living One without delay.”

They found the young Goddess not in the garden, but in the shrine. She sat on the ground before the altar, looking up at the golden statue of Asheth. Her head barely moved when the trio entered, no more than a spark of interest in her eyes.

“Oh, my dear Goddess,” Mother Proudfoot said, bending down to take the girl’s hands. “I hope you will forgive me for allowing you to suffer for so long.”

“I rather think she won’t.”

Mother Astera’s cold, lovely voice was distinctive, even though they had only heard her once. She stepped down from the other side of the statue, her golden robes wafting around her as if in a breeze.

“However did you manage to get here before us?” Christopher asked, as if it were only a minor puzzle that he could just as easily have worked out himself. “Your followers must be feeling quite abandoned.”

“Get here before you?” Mother Astera laughed. “You say that as though I ever left!”

Christopher frowned. “I beg your pardon, madam, but I don’t quite take your meaning.”

“Of course you don’t,” Mother Astera said, putting her hands on her hips. “You underestimated me when you were a boy, and it seems you’ve only become more foolish as a man.” Her gaze shifted, burning on Millie. “I did think that perhaps you might do better, girl. You were always one of my brighter daughters.”

Millie didn’t need to see the second set of arms raised at Mother Astera’s side to realize who was really speaking to them. “Asheth,” she said, determined to keep her voice from trembling.

A movement to one side drew Millie’s attention, and she saw Christopher grab Mother Proudfoot’s arms to steady her as the elderly priestess nearly collapsed to her knees before her goddess, confusion on her face. Asheth was not known for her mercy, and she could easily choose to direct her displeasure towards her priestess.

“So you were the one drawing on the child’s strength,” Millie said, more to distract Asheth from Mother Proudfoot than anything.

Asheth’s eyes went back to Millie, scorching like the sun. “Of course,” Asheth said. “Why shouldn’t I? She’s mine. Every daughter of Asheth belongs to me, and all her strength is my own.”

“One might possibly argue that the girls have some small claim on their own lives,” Christopher suggested, in his softest tones, the ones that only masked his deepest anger.

“Not unless I choose to release them,” Asheth said. “That is something you -- a male, a _heathen_ \-- would never understand. The daughters are mine, to draw on when I have need!”

Millie didn’t like the sound of this at all. She had known, once, how Asheth’s mind worked, and she feared very much that she might see the shape of what was coming.

“But you’re a goddess,” she said, as a test. She would have prayed she might be wrong, if she knew where to address the prayer. “What need could you have?”

Asheth laughed, cold and fierce. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, girl.” Her voice went higher, vicious in mockery. “‘She’s me, just as much as I’m her.’” She threw the words at Millie in the voice of the child Goddess she had been. “Tell us all, if you’re one of the clever girls. Tell your priestess what she couldn’t stop!”

Christopher and Mother Proudfoot looked at Millie. “It’s the other gods,” she told them. “Her brothers and sisters. She’s going to attack them.”

“You’re a poor excuse for ‘me,’ if you phrase it like that,” Asheth said. “Say rather that they have been attacking me, more of them every year. Raising their temples to rival mine and daring to steal my worshippers, the source of my strength -- and what have you done to prevent them?” Her glare at Mother Proudfoot hit the old woman like a slap.

“We have worked in harmony with the other temples,” Mother Proudfoot said, her dignity remaining even though she shook from the force of the goddess’s wrath. “As long as the other temples agreed that Asheth remained preeminent, we did not prevent their expansion.”

“How very kind,” Asheth said, her voice cold. “You allowed them to bleed away my base of power, to take that power and grow strong with it. I had to take a hand myself to bring my worshippers back to me and begin the process of regaining my strength. And all this you, in your _kindness_ , would have prevented.”

“It hardly seems like kindness to allow something one has no means of preventing,” Christopher remarked. “One temple, no matter how powerful, can hardly stop all the others together.”

“And yet they didn’t even try,” Asheth said. “They are powerless, and they would make me so as well.”

Asheth stepped towards them, and the presence of the angry goddess crushed against them like a physical weight. “Do you think I let you stop my sacrifices out of kindness?” Asheth sneered. “Because I wanted to allow more whining, emotional brats out into the world?” She laughed again, the sound crueler every time. “Now I have women by the dozen, ripe and ready for me to harvest their power -- and all at once, I will be strong enough to be rid of my siblings forever!”

Two of her golden hands slammed out, and Millie’s knees buckled as they pointed at her. The world tilted around her, and wasn’t she tired? Too tired to stand, too tired to think. She fell to her knees, nearly losing consciousness entirely.

“You’re me,” Asheth’s voice echoed in Millie’s head. She could hear nothing but the words, the constant echoing in her mind a barrier to the outside world. “You’re me, and I’m you. We are one person, you and I, and all we are is shared between us.”

She was a child again, the Goddess in the shrine standing before her other self. She was Asheth, she was four-handed and cat beloved, she was --

“Millie!”

She was in Christopher’s arms, surrounded by his familiar power, clinging to the man who loved her and her alone, her and not Asheth. Never Asheth. Supported by Christopher’s magic, Millie struggled back to her feet, raising her chin as she met the Goddess’s terrible gaze. “ _No_.”

Asheth shrugged, her hands falling back to her sides. “If you must be melodramatic about it, I’ve still more than enough other options. And when I’ve drained enough of the others, even the pair of you together won’t have the strength to defy me.”

And without warning, her other hands snapped towards the young Goddess at the altar. Millie and Christopher flung out power to stop her, but the attack on Millie left them too slow, too spent. Asheth’s hands grasped right through them, reaching --

“No!” Mother Proudfoot stood before the young Goddess as the power hit, and the full blast knocked her back, smashing her against the altar.

“Mother Proudfoot!” Millie screamed as the old woman’s body crumpled over the golden altar, blood dripping down its sides.

Asheth’s mouth tightened. “That was unnecessary,” she said. “She was devoted to me, all these many years. I would have spared her for that, if nothing else.”

“Spared her?” The young Goddess glared up at Asheth. “You killed her! She only ever wanted to serve you, and you _killed_ her!” Tears welled up in the little girl’s eyes, tears that burned in Millie’s eyes as well.

“You’re not the goddess she taught me about!” the girl screamed. “I don’t believe the Asheth Mother Proudfoot served would ever be so wicked!”

“Be silent!” Asheth snarled. “I have had enough of horrible old women and disobedient children. I am _glad_ to be rid of her, and I will still take you.” Her golden arms reached for the child again, and --

\-- and dissolved halfway into the gesture.

“What?” Asheth lifted her hands -- her two very human hands, no more -- and stared at them like they had betrayed her. She spun to glare at Millie. “What did you do?” Her voice was still lovely and clear, but the power behind it had gone. “What have you done to me?”

But Millie could only shake her head. Attempting to defy a goddess not once, but twice, had left her magic drained. She couldn’t have done anything if she had tried.

“You were the one to do it, Astera,” came a deep, rich woman’s voice, with all the power that Asheth had just lost. “You sent a woman to die on Asheth’s altar.”

Mother Proudfoot stood -- or someone who looked very much like her did, anyway. She was younger than Millie had ever seen her, dressed in familiar flowing gold robes. She put one hand on each hip, but that still left two arms to pull the weeping child Goddess into a comforting embrace.

“But that can’t have worked!” Astera said. “She was never a daughter of Asheth!”

“Strictly speaking, that is not a requirement,” Asheth said from Mother Proudfoot’s form. “All women hold some aspect of myself in their hearts, and so all are my daughters.” Her eyes on Astera were kind, but unforgiving. “And you, my daughter, did not bring out the best aspects of me.”

Christopher was the one to understand it. “You take on the identity of the sacrificed girl,” he said.

“And Astera was the last Living Asheth to be sacrificed for a very long time.” Asheth looked down at the woman in front of her. “But your time here has ended, my daughter.” She waved a hand, and Astera’s form began to fade.

“What?” Horror flooded Astera’s face as she realized what was happening. “No, you can’t! I’m you! I’m Asheth, and she’s me!” Her voice was the last thing to fade, the words echoing around the shrine after her body had gone. “What am I if I’m not Asheth?”

It was a very long moment before any of them moved, save for Asheth’s comforting hands stroking the young Goddess’s hair.

The child Goddess was the first to speak. “Is it over now?” she asked.

“Not quite, I should think,” Christopher said, glancing at his wife.

Millie nodded. There was one thing she had to know, even if she didn’t like the answer. “Are you going to reinstate the sacrifices?” she asked Asheth.

Asheth smiled. “Not for some time.” The smile faded. “However, Astera was correct about one matter. My religion does require some alteration, particularly after Astera’s interference.” She looked down at herself. “I believe that this aspect of myself will do very well for the foundation of a new faith.”

“As lovely as that is, I notice you don’t deny you may return to killing children one day,” Christopher said.

Asheth raised her eyebrows. “You take a great deal upon yourself to question a goddess, young man,” she said, in Mother Proudfoot’s sternest tones. “I do require some level of sacrifice, in order to maintain my connection to humanity.”

But Asheth was also Mother Proudfoot now, and Millie knew that behind the harsh words, there was always a deeper kindness. “It needn’t be children, though,” she said.

Asheth’s eyes softened when she looked at Millie. “No,” she agreed. “Not children, nor women who do not choose such a fate. This matter with Astera shows that I must be more choosy in the person who embodies my human aspect.” A bit of humor flashed across her face. “I believe I shall have a quite enlightening conversation with my priestesses before I leave this world.”

Millie nodded. “Thank you, Goddess.”

Asheth smiled. “Did you doubt I would honor a request from another aspect of myself? Had events gone another way, it might have been you on the altar, my dear.” She reached out and stroked Millie’s hair, just as she had for the child Goddess. “And you have always had the ability to bring out the best in me. You would have been a glorious Goddess.”

“All the same, I believe I prefer her human,” Christopher said, taking Millie’s hand. “And alive.”

“Yes, your life is elsewhere now,” Asheth agreed. “But know that you have my blessing in it.” She dropped a kiss on Millie’s forehead, and with it, Millie and Christopher felt themselves thrown back through the worlds, carried by Asheth’s divine power.

“You are me, my daughter,” Asheth’s words whispered in Millie’s mind as she returned them home. “But you have become so very much more.”


End file.
